


Intercourse With The Vampire

by 1_mad_squirrel



Series: Vampire Chronicles [1]
Category: Forever Knight
Genre: M/M, Vampires, master/childe relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-05-21
Updated: 1998-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_mad_squirrel/pseuds/1_mad_squirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick finally watches a certain movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intercourse With The Vampire

This tale is unabashedly romantic, but not too graphic.  Unless you're a vampire, in which case you may find yourself gnawing on anything with a pulse.  Advise locking away the household pets.<g>  
  
I hereby acknowledge that the characters cavorting herein are the sole property of Sony-Tristar, Mssrs. Parriot & Slan, et al.  No profit is being made from their use.  Yadda-yadda-yadda....  
  
Note: this story takes place not long after "Ashes to Ashes"  For the purposes of this story, Vachon did not die in "Ashes to Ashes".  He just felt bad for a while. <g>  
  
"Intercourse with the Vampire"  
m/m N/LC implicit  
by Laurie of the Isles  
May, 21, 1998  
  
  
Nick's breathing resumed in short gasps as the credits began to roll.  He sank back into the leather couch, fangs and veins throbbing.  He watched through a faint golden haze as on the screen a classic red mustang crossed the bridge, Guns N' Roses blaring, bleached-blond actor at the wheel.  
  
He'd been right not to see this film in the theater, surrounded by mortals.  He hadn't even rented it.  He'd waited until it came out on cable, letting it come to him.  
  
Nick squirmed against the leather cushions, trying to relieve the constriction in his groin.  'Yeah, a damn good thing I waited' he thought ruefully.  
  
"Indeed, mon petit."  
  
Nicholas jumped at the sound of the voice behind him.  
  
"I was beginning to fear you had forgotten how to breathe."  LaCroix intoned in his silkiest voice.  
  
"LaCroix!" Nick squeaked, inwardly cursing his traitorous voice, "how did you know-"  
  
The elder vampire let his amusement twinkle in his eyes.  "How could I not, my dear boy, with such interesting vibrations in our link?"  
  
Nick had rarely felt so uncomfortable, or at such a disadvantage. He knew he could only blame himself for the loss of control that had let his arousal bleed through the link to his master.  Though for once, LaCroix didn't seem inclined to torture his favorite creation for his lapse.  He simply seated himself in the overstuffed leather chair on Nick's right, and waited for his childe to recover.  
  
Nick cast about for something to say, anything to cover his discomfiture.  
  
"You've seen the film?" he finally managed.  
  
"Oh yes, months ago, in the theater."  LaCroix responded, neatly lobbing the ball back into Nick's court.  
  
Nick sighed lightly, relieved his master had not taken full advantage of his surprise visit.  Incredibly the older vampire even seemed to be taking pains not to notice Nick's obvious arousal.  The golden head dipped slightly in acknowledgment of the courtesy.  
  
"You weren't uncomfortable seeing it among mortals?" Nick asked, gaining more composure by the moment.  
  
LaCroix quirked one corner of his mouth and lifted an eyebrow.  
"Quite the contrary, actually. I found their presence lent an added  
\-- spice."  
  
Nick shook his head, regarding the old general with an expression of grudging admiration.  
  
"I couldn't have handled it." the younger man admitted, with a rueful smile.  
  
"I know." LaCroix eyed Nicholas pointedly, his voice thick with innuendo.  
  
Nick's hard-won composure threatened to desert him, and he hastily diverted the subject:  
  
"It wasn't as good as the book."  
  
Up went the eyebrow again over an ice-blue gaze.  "They never are." LaCroix smiled slightly in agreement.  
  
Nick began to feel his way, continuing the train of thought.  "The actors did a good enough job, it was just miscast."  
  
LaCroix nodded with interest.  "Indeed, one would think the could have found an actor with the right coloring, the right features to play the hero."  
  
"I know!" Nicholas responded with enthusiasm "he was supposed to have black hair!"  
  
"I said the hero."  LaCroix shot back, eyes glinting wickedly with amusement.  
  
"*LaCroix*!"  Nick began, but dissolved into a fond chuckle.  
  
"At any rate," LaCroix continued, undaunted. "I much prefer the second book.  The first was so maudlin.  The portrayal of the master was terribly biased and one dimensional."  
  
Nick grinned.  "I rather thought you'd see it that way."  
  
For a moment the two just sat, enjoying the unaccustomed warmth and ease.  LaCroix thought with regret how long it had been since they had had such an exchange.  Longer still since they had shared more intimate moments.  He decided to chance steering the conversation into riskier territory.  
  
"Still, even with the questionable casting, the film was not - unpleasant - to look at."  
  
Nick quirked a grin.  "Definitely not unpleasant.  The leader of the coven in Paris looked nothing like the character's description, but I can't say I objected to the actor aesthetically."  
  
"Most definitely not." LaCroix concurred, delighted that Nick had not balked at his insinuation.  "Actually, he reminded me of someone we know."  
  
Nick looked doubtful.  "Well maybe superficially.  Vachon is just much more..."  
  
"Insouciant." LaCroix finished for him.  
  
"Exactly!" Nick nodded emphatically, then smiled, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes.  
  
Nick's sire lost the thread of the conversation, and any sense of self-possession he might have had.  He could only drink in the sight of his most prized offspring regarding him with a warmth and openness he hadn't seen in a hundred years.  LaCroix' own face took on an unaccustomed softness, his lips parting slightly, pupils dilating to take in all they could of this rare gift.  
  
Under this gaze Nicholas felt himself move, almost without will, reaching his right hand to caress his master's cheek with the backs of his fingertips.  
  
LaCroix breathed in sharply in surprise.  He forced himself to remain still, waiting to see how far Nicholas' initiative would take him.  Nick's fingers trembled has he moved his hand, brushing his mentor's lips with a feather-light touch.  Still motionless, LaCroix knew that an aggressive move on his part would shatter the spell.  
  
Nicholas paused, intrigued by his masters' passive acceptance of his attentions.  Emboldened, he reached out with his left hand to trace the shell of LaCroix' ear, pausing at the lobe, before sweeping down to the maddeningly sensitive neck below.  
  
LaCroix' nostrils flared in response.  His eyelids fluttered closed as a small groan escaped his lips.  The ancient vampire clenched his hands to maintain control, inadvertently digging his nails into his palms.  
  
At the scent of his master's blood, the last of Nicholas' reserve crumbled.  He grabbed onto LaCroix' hands and dropping his lips to the palms, began lapping the blood from the crescent-shaped wounds.  
  
LaCroix' eyes flew open, suffused with the deep red-gold of vampiric arousal.  He watched as Nicholas abandoned himself to the bloodlust with a ravenousness born of long self-denial.  The golden-haired demon-angel growled in frustration as the small wounds closed and the intoxicating nectar of his master's blood was denied him.  
  
Glowing, feral eyes looked up to LaCroix' and the ancient one gasped at the primal creature looking out at him.  Sighing, LaCroix realized that this night could not be what he hoped.  Before he could share love again, his young one needed his strength, the vitality in the blood of a sentient creature for which Nicholas was so starved.  
  
Holding his precious one's burning gaze with his own, LaCroix gently pulled a hand from Nicholas' iron grip.  He sent soothing messages through their link as he loosed the top buttons of his shirt. Turning his head slightly, LaCroix offered his neck.    
  
Nicholas lunged, pinning LaCroix back into the chair.  He tore into the great vein with a brutal ferocity his master had never known in him.  LaCroix winced briefly at the pain, then was lost in the exquisite pulling sensation as his dearest child fed from him with the urgency of that first night so long ago.  
  
Nick's arms spasmed around his master.  He moaned against his sire's neck as he fed.  LaCroix shuddered as the sensation spread through him.  He drew one arm around Nicholas, the other rising to press his beloved's head to him, fingers combing through the tousled golden hair.  
  
Nicholas' veins sang as the heady distillation of all that LaCroix was infused him with its strength.  As his urgent need slowly retreated, Nick became aware of the totality offered him in his master's blood.  The young one tasted his sire's iron will, the incredulous arousal, and beneath it an enduring love, the intensity of which nearly overwhelmed him.  Nicholas hung on, and for the first time took the love into himself and rejoiced in it.    
  
In this new knowledge of his master, Nick became aware that LaCroix had been giving of himself as never before.  The ancient one had allowed his beloved to drain him to the point of weakness.  With a sob, Nicholas pulled LaCroix backward with him onto the floor.  His master's weight atop him, Nick slowed his feeding and tilted his head, exposing a sinuous neck to his sire.  
  
LaCroix' eyes widened.  Emotion overcame him as he lowered his head, gently nuzzling his childe's neck.  Nick gasped as his master fastened to him and with infinite tenderness, pierced the throbbing vein.  An electric current surged through master and beloved as the circuit was completed.  Each knew the other, and themselves in the other, until there was no "other".  
  
************  
  
Awareness crept upon them.  Awareness of arms encircled, clothing discarded and legs entwined.  Nicholas, still half drugged with sleep, squirmed under his master's weight.  The ancient one regarded him with wonder.  Taking care not to disengage himself from his lover, LaCroix gently rolled over and settled his childe atop him, shining head pillowed on his chest.  
  
Nicholas' eyes fluttered lazily open, then widened in surprise.   LaCroix tensed, steeling himself for the shock, revulsion and rejection he expected when his childe's eyes rose to meet his.  Lucien LaCroix was truly humbled for the first time in his two thousand years when the eyes that met his held not hatred, but shy affection.  
  
Nick held LaCroix' eyes for a long moment, then glanced down at their tangled, blood-sweat covered bodies.  He looked back at his lover with smile of wry amusement, then snuggled his head back onto LaCroix' chest.  They lay for a while in comfortable silence.  
  
"So, whom would you have cast?"  Nick murmured with a languid yawn.  
  
LaCroix was utterly non-plussed.  "Pardon?"  
  
"Whom would you have cast?" Nick repeated, "as the master?"  
  
"Ahh."  LaCroix' eyes glinted with humor and not a little relief as he paused to consider.  "Julian Sand, perhaps; he has the right coloring, the right aristocratic features-"  
  
"The right height" Nick interjected.  
  
"Precisely.  Or perhaps Ralph Fiennes, though he may be a bit too aristocratic."  
  
"Hmmm..." Nick rumbled drowsily "I think the one character perfectly cast was the daughter.  Such an amazing performance from someone so young!"  
  
An expression of pain flitted across LaCroix' face.  "Ah, yes, the daughter."  he said distantly  
  
Nicholas kicked himself mentally for his thoughtlessness.  The memory of recent events flashed like a raw wound in their link.  Nick tightened his arms around his master and dropped a tender kiss on the broad chest.  LaCroix gave a brief squeeze of reassurance.  
  
The reminder of recent pain brought reality to the lovers, and the remembrance of daily life and duty.  They glanced as one to the shuttered windows, and detecting not a hint of sunlight, knew the time had come to face the night.  Nick reluctantly loosened his arms from around his master.  LaCroix released him and Nicholas rose gracefully, accepting without embarrassment the admiring gaze of his lover.    
  
"I've got to shower," Nick observed, looking down at himself with rueful grin.    
  
"That would be best," LaCroix replied, raising himself on one elbow, "I can just imagine the expressions on your fellow officer's faces." he finished, favoring Nick with a Mona Lisa smile.  
  
Nick chortled, and reached out a hand to his master, pulling him up to stand beside him.  "Want to conserve water?"  Nicholas offered, lifting one coquettish eyebrow.  
  
LaCroix looked wistful.  "I think perhaps you might need the time to...immerse yourself in your role."  
  
Nicholas nodded briefly and turned to head for the stairs, then swung back.  He looked for a long moment at the man he had been struggling against for more decades than he cared to remember, scarcely believing the change.  
  
LaCroix acknowledged the look, then nodded toward the stairs.  
"You'll be late."  
  
Nick turned a final time to the stairs, keenly aware of his master's gaze on him as he ascended.  
  
***************************  
  
When Nick came back downstairs, LaCroix was nowhere to be seen.  The freshly scrubbed vampire wandered his loft aimlessly, fastening cufflinks and buttoning buttons.  He felt a sense of loss he scarcely let himself acknowledge.    
  
Alone again, Nicholas' old fears returned.  What had he let himself in for?  He didn't know if he was ready for the intensity of a fully resumed relationship with his master.  He began to dread the return of  
the possessiveness, the relentless intrusion into his every thought and movement.  He felt a lump of fear in his chest, that LaCroix would again demand far more than he was ready to give.    
  
The amorphous dread followed him down the lift and into his Caddy.  
He pulled out onto the street and from sheer habit switched on the radio.  
  
"Good evening, children," LaCroix' voice greeted him, "tonight we will begin with a musical interlude."   There was the briefest of pauses and the silken voice continued:  "For my beloved."  
  
Nicholas' eyes blurred as the rich, golden voice of Ella Fitzgerald  
sang his master's promise: "This Time the Dream's on Me."  
  
  
THE END  
  
note: "This Time the Dream's on Me" by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer  
       available on the "Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Harold Arlen        
       Songbook" Verve CD  
  
  



End file.
